Then Make No Sound
by The Prophet of July
Summary: The five times in Cosette's life when Marius' name was the most important word she knew. Rather fluffy, not the type of thing I typically write these days, but please enjoy.


Welp, I did a thing. Haven't written anything in a while, and I've never written anything for Les Mis, so uh, here goes, I guess?

Please note that I have not yet finished the book, so I'm mostly going from the movie-verse plus some extrapolation. Please don't hate me if I get things wrong.

* * *

The first time Cosette said his name was the first time they met, when he showed up at her garden gate. When she saw him there, all words left her mind. She was struck dumb by the sight of him, the beautiful stranger she had seen that morning standing within arms reach.

With her last strides, she flew to the gate, curling her fingers over his where they wrapped the bars of the wrought iron gate.

She stared up at him, eyes wide, lips upturned in a nervous smile.

"My name is Marius Pontmercy," he said, and the sound of his voice was the most wonderful thing she had ever heard. For a moment, she forgot to speak.

"And mine's Cosette," she replied.

"Cosette," he repeated. He spoke her name like it was something holy, something awe-inspiring. "I don't know what to say."

Few words were exchanged between the two before Valjean could be heard calling her back to the house. They said their hurried goodbyes and reluctantly parted.

She returned to her room and sat upon the bed, dazed but wildly awake. She clutched a pillow to her chest, desperate for something to cling to.

Cosette knew she was crazy. She knew she should be careful. But reason was a lost cause for her. She was in love.

Absently toying with a tassel on the pillow, she sighed and smiled to herself.

"Marius," she murmured. She wanted to shout it to the heavens, to tell the whole world, but for now their love must remain quiet.

So she said it again, this time impossibly softer.

"Marius."

* * *

Cosette was confused, and very frightened.

Her Papa had decided that they were to leave the town, although for what reason she could not be sure. They were staying in a small apartment until they could secure passage to somewhere 'safer,' although Cosette had always felt safe with Jean Valjean. But there was Marius, now, and she couldn't leave him, not after they had only just found each other.

And then there were the barricades. They had arisen, and so Cosette and Valjean stayed put in the tiny, foreign apartment.

Marius was part of the revolutionary group, Cosette knew. She prayed silently for his safety, that he might survive, and that she might find him once again.

Cosette had been sitting by the window when the young street urchin came by. She couldn't hear what he said to her father, but it affected him somehow. He came inside and paced for a bit, stopping every so often as if he had remembered his purpose and promptly forgotten it.

At length, he donned his coat, kissed Cosette on the forehead, and left without a word.

Now it was her turn to pace. Had her father gone to the barricades? Would she ever see him alive again?

But she couldn't stay focused on Valjean. Her thoughts always strayed back to Marius. Was he safe? Did he think of her? Had he found her letter?

She worried for him so. With a great huff, she flopped onto the threadbare sofa, throwing an arm over her face as if to shield herself from the outside world.

She whimpered, trying not to cry, and whispered, "Oh, Marius! Please, God, don't let him die!"

* * *

To see him lying in a hospital bed, bruised, bandaged, and broken, was quite possibly the saddest thing that Cosette had ever seen.

The nurses were quietly shuffling about, caring for the few who had survived the battle. When she had first arrived, they had asked her to leave. She had simply said "I can't," and sat herself in the chair by his bedside.

And now she waited. Hours had passed, though Cosette took little notice of the time. She had arrived in the mid afternoon when her Papa had returned to their small apartment.

Much had happened during the night, and Valjean had spent the morning impatiently allowing himself to be patched up before hurrying home to see his daughter.

He had hardly gotten out the word of Marius' survival before Cosette had put on her cloak and rushed to the hospital, barely waving a goodbye to her safely returned father.

As the afternoon light faded into hues of pink and orange and purple, Marius began to stir. She clasped his hand in hers. Blinking up at her, a tired smile broke across his face.

"Cosette," he breathed.

Her eyes filled with tears as she reached laid her hand upon his cheek.

"Marius," she said, and smiled.

* * *

Cosette couldn't decide which was happier- the day she had met Marius or the day they were wed.

There was celebration and dancing, as much food and wine as they could want, but still Marius distractedly pushed food around his plate, staring at a point Cosette couldn't identify.

She understood his preoccupation, and forgave him for it easily. He still felt the pain of losing his friends. There were no friends of the groom to make a toast to the happiness of the newlyweds. Although the wedding was not a small affair, most of the guests were friends of Marius' grandfather. In short, no one that either he or his bride truly cared for.

She saw his pain, saw the faraway look in his eyes. She laid a gentle hand on his arm, snapping him from his reverie.

"I'm sorry," he said sheepishly. "I..."

He trailed off, having not thought of anything sufficient to say. He stared resolutely at his plate.

"Marius," she said, placing a hand upon his cheek.

His eyes were full of questions as they returned her gaze. She kissed his lips and pressed her forehead against his. He sighed, understanding the meaning of the gesture. Rather than speaking, she had used a gentle touch to show her love and understanding.

* * *

Cosette couldn't decide if today was the best day of her life or the worst.

She and Marius had abandoned the reception early to find Cosette's father.

And then, after a tearful reunion, Valjean had died while his daughter knelt at his feet.

She deflated, sinking toward the ground. A sob wracked her body and Marius embraced her, not knowing what else to do. It pained him more than he could express to see her so greif-stricken.

She held onto him as though he were a buoy in a turbulent ocean, a faint hope for salvation.

"Marius," she pleaded, in a voice that said 'do something; do anything, please, I need you.'

Not knowing what to say, he simply held her tighter.

* * *

Tada? I would have liked to end with something a bit happier, but Les Mis is the most tragically beautiful thing I have ever experienced. So yeah. Hope you liked it. Reviews are great, should you feel inclined to leave one.


End file.
